


It's Like a Sauna in Here!

by xxx_Young_Blood_xxx



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Pay attention to that warning guys, Steve calls Peter 'son' and it's hot I promise, Unbeta'd, We go straight to posting like men, spidershield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxx_Young_Blood_xxx/pseuds/xxx_Young_Blood_xxx
Summary: After debating on where the best place was to sit, he takes a seat adjacent from Steve, not too close but not too obviously far away.Andwhat? He’s seventeen and questioning his sexuality, alright, and who the heck wouldn't ogle a sweaty, flushed, unsuspecting Steve Rogers when given the chance to?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Steve Rogers
Comments: 17
Kudos: 312





	It's Like a Sauna in Here!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I'm gonna be honest— this was the brainchild of three Red Bulls and an adderall at one in the morning. It's barely beta'd either, so this fic's gonna be wild for both you and me whenever I get around to actually reading it. And in my defense, I really tried to keep Steve as in-character as possible while writing this.
> 
> Also: yes, it's an exclusively Spidershield sauna fic, and no, I don't regret it. Enjoy!
> 
> *Please take the underage warning seriously. DLDR.*

“Hey, kid. Good job today.”

Peter jumps at the compliment that cuts through the steam in the air, fingers tightening on the knot in the towel at his hip. Unsurprisingly, he's never even step foot into a sauna in his life, much less one as luxurious as this one, so he didn't know the unspoken rules of them— sue him. Was it like when he was at urinals that he needed to keep his eyes on the wall or himself and not say anything? Or in the locker room during P.E. where teasing might be allowed, but under no circumstance could he touch?

It's all very confusing, and Steve notices his absent response. 

“Peter?” He asks, bringing him back from inside the depths of his over-analyzing mind.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, and licks his lips. “Um, thank you, sir. You too.” And how stupid was he for saying that? Of course Captain America did great, who was Peter to tell _him_ good job—

But Steve laughs, low and hearty, and watches the boy’s face go pinker much faster than it would’ve naturally from the steam around them. “Thanks,” he says simply, humble as always, and Peter can't but help admire it.

After debating on where the best place was to sit, he takes a seat adjacent from Steve, not too close but not too obviously far away.

And _what_? He’s seventeen and questioning his sexuality, alright, and who the heck wouldn't ogle a sweaty, flushed, unsuspecting Steve Rogers as he leans against the tile wall, when given the chance to? The man's eyes are shut and relaxed, his lips parted in contentment, which is why Peter thinks he can get away with letting his gaze trail down further toward the towel clinging to his pelvis...

Jesus H. Christ. Honestly, Peter wonders briefly if Steve’s a grower, because if he is, all he can think is god help his future wife. Do people need a wheelchair after having sex with him? He’s _huge_ , and Peter can’t really tear his eyes away at this point, too invested now.

Peter’s always been curious though, because Steve is attractive, there’s no denying that. He really can’t say his eyes haven’t wandered either during missions or training sessions or whenever the man walks by, and he subsequently allows himself to study the other’s arguably perfect body— most specifically those biceps that are the size of his head and the ass that has no reason being as rounded as it is.

His shame is practically nonexistent as he absentmindedly gawks at the man, sensing a familiar coil beginning to slowly tighten in his abdomen, and his cock twitch with the terrible promise of chubbing up. God, not now, not—

“See somethin’ you like?” Steve raises an eyebrow, paired with a hint of a confused smile. It's charming, friendly, if a bit teasing. Peter notices that his Brooklyn drawl makes an appearance, and he dies a little inside and swoons all at once.

Panicking, he scoffs. “Wh-what? No, I was just— um. Daydreaming?”

“Ah, I see,” the other hums, in a tone that tells Peter that he absolutely doesn't believe him. “About what? The training session?”

Peter goes quiet as he swallows thickly, and flushes further. Some _specific_ parts of the training session, yes. His lips twitch momentarily as he tries to think up a good response. “Yeah, y’know. Just. Yeah.”

Perfect.

Steve nods slowly, pursing his lips. “Really,” he states, doesn't ask, in a low, enigmatic tone. “Or was it about what’s under my towel?”

And, well, Peter kind of wants to die. He goes cherry red, god— he can _feel_ himself blushing regardless of the heat in the room. But even now he feels like he still has to try and save face, despite how right on the nose Steve is, who _knows_ he's right. “No sir! I wouldn’t— I couldn’t think that, I was just day dreaming, is all...” he manages to get out, his voice cracking only once, and he considers that an achievement.

But then with a flick of his fingers, Steve swiftly undoes the knot on his towel and peels away the wet fabric, which then undoes all of Peter’s hard work of not having a full blown freakout. He's gonna pass _out_.

“Mr. Rogers?” He squeaks, feeling something heavy settle purposefully in his abdomen, and hates how he knows exactly what that feeling is.

“Just getting comfortable, kid,” Steve says evenly, so casual that Peter almost believes him. “Maybe you should too.” Yet the rough, rumbling way he speaks now doesn’t make it sound like a suggestion, more akin to a demand. So after some moments’ hesitation, Peter unknots his towel as well, placing it to the side with a subsequent sodden noise.

“Good.” Steve gets up, and Peter gawks at him as he strolls over to the door and locks it, the action he sees done practically in slow motion. Peter stiffens at it, uneasy and aroused, but not confident enough in himself to really know if it's because Steve wanted them to be alone for more explicit purposes, or friendlier ones. “Why don’t you tell me about your daydream?”

...More explicit ones, then. Understood.

Still shocked, regardless of how he's somehow managed to read the room, he still stutters. “Oh— um, it wasn’t anything, sir. Cap. Just stupid stuff, y’know?”

“I’m still interested in hearing it,” Steve practically purrs as he sits next to the other on the wooden bench, so close that their knees knock against one another. Trying to be polite, Peter subtly places his hands in his lap to hide his quickly forming erection as he sneaks a glance up at the man, who's all squared-off jawlines and perfect side profiles from here, and then lets his gaze fall again.

Notably, Steve’s thighs are enormous compared to his own much leaner ones, just pure sinewy muscle and wispy dark blond hairs that lead to an uncut cock— which is extremely impressive in size, even in spite of its flaccidness. Lost in thought, his eyes glaze over a little, knowing he'd remember that image for years to come.

“Peter?”

And consequently, his eyes go wide with mortification. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. Sorry, sir, I just—”

“Kid,” he cuts him off, “it’s alright. I don’t mind it.”

“...You don’t?” Peter breathes, disbelief written all over his face.

Steve shakes his head, his smile a smug little thing. “I stare at you too. Maybe a little less obviously, but I do.”

Peter thinks he’s going to explode. Steve smirks contently at how the other becomes that much pinker, his gaze raking down his smaller counterpart and tsk-ing at the way the boy’s covering his half hard cock up, but not doing a very good job of it.

“Well, that’s not fair,” he nods to Peter’s hands, and looks up at him through lidded eyes, “if I let you see mine, I should be able to see yours, right?”

Peter nods sheepishly after some seconds, because Steve’s right, it is only fair, and lets his hands fall away. He notes how the man’s eyes go darker, and how his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Peter’s dick visibly twitches. He thinks he hears Steve hold back a groan at that, but he and his senses could be wrong. Maybe.

“So, the daydream. I’d love to hear about it.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“I think it’s a wonderful one. Helps me get to know you a little more, hm?”

Peter shrugs, and after a lighthearted nudge to his knee from Steve’s, he ducks his head, purposefully averting his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just— you’re, uh, handsome, and I was just staring. Which I'm still pretty sorry about.”

Steve ignores the last sentence. “And what do you think about, when you stare at me?”

Despite the sauna’s heat, Peter’s right side immediately becomes insanely hotter, just by the way that Steve scoots that much closer to him.

“...A lot. Are you sure you wanna know—?”

“I’m sure.” Steve tells him, deep and unwavering. “Go on.”

“Okay,” Peter swallows, thick and dry even though he's never been in such damp air before. “Um, I think about... I always wondered how big you were. And, now I guess I’ve got that question answered,” he gestures blindly to Steve’s lap, and Steve chuckles, reaching up to grab his wrist firmly, but not painfully. Peter’s heart stops. His hand is so enormous, and it could break the bone so easily even with Peter's powers coming into play— he squirms as another rush of blood shoots to his dick.

Then, Steve asks the million dollar question. “Would you like to touch it?”

Peter short circuits, but dumbly, _quickly_ nods his head anyway just in case Steve was planning on taking it back, because he _would_ like to touch it. The other smiles at that, guiding Peter’s hand to the base of his cock, and naturally Peter wraps his hand loosely around it, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears as he studies his own movements and feels it slowly hardening in his grip. His senses are going haywire with anticipation, his stomach flipping and oh, he’s definitely sporting a full erection now, no question.

“Think you can you stroke it while you keep talkin', kid?

Hypnotized, Peter nods, and curiously pumps his hand up the entirety of Steve’s length, and on the way back down, watches as the foreskin’s pulled back to reveal a dark pink head, and he goes dizzy.

“Uhh,” he blanks, having forgotten where he was at before. Steve smirks a bit.

“You were wondering how big I was,” the man informs him, always humble, and Peter nods again.

“I’ve... always kinda wondered what you tasted like too, um—” he jerks Steve firmer now, a little more confident, “especially after a mission when you’re all sweaty.” Steve makes a small, breathy sound at that. It spurs Peter on. “But I always wondered if I would ever be able to fit it in my mouth, ‘cause I knew you were big even if I never really saw it— I could... uh, tell through your pants.”

“Could you now?” Steve’s voice is still level and playful even as he’s beginning to harden, if a little bit strained. “You think about anything else?”

Peter shakes his head. Another stroke. “I never let myself get too far. You’re kinda like, my boss. I didn’t want it to get outta hand...” Though, it seems at the moment, it already has. Or hasn't, depending on the way one looks at it.

“Peter.”

Curious, ever-wide eyes dart up to meet Steve’s, that are darker than Peter ever remembers them being. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Peter melts as his heart rate increases tenfold, all at once. His mouth is suddenly as dry as his calculus teacher's jokes, and he truly can't believe this is actually happening. “ _Oh_. Um— ah, yes. Yeah, please. I think about that too, actually. A lot.”

“Well, looks like it doesn’t have to be a fantasy anymore, then.” Steve leans over to press his lips to Peter's, chaste at first just as he'd expected the captain would be. They make out innocently for a minute, Peter still pumping Steve even if his rhythm’s been compromised by the distraction. He even gets bold enough to lick against the seam of Steve’s lips even though he’s never gone this far before— hell, giving a handjob in spite of his wariness toward anything sexual was a feat in itself —because the man isn’t deepening it, and Peter wants _more_.

Steve pulls back then, and Peter’s already forming an apology in his head before the other crashes their lips back together, but still calculating, just the right amount of hard and still soft enough that Peter doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Their tongues dance all the while and he thanks god that Steve doesn’t say anything about his evident inexperience with this. In fact, it even seems to turn him on, judging by how he’s nearly at full mast now. Peter breaks the kiss to catch his breath, looking down to see that the cock in his hand _has_ gotten bigger. Not significantly so, thank Christ, but still visibly thicker.

“Uh,” he rasps, and Steve smiles knowingly, dipping his head to kiss Peter again although it’s more just like a lick and a bite to his bottom lip, before he pulls Peter on top of his lap so that they face one another. It’s so swift and easy for him that it makes Peter’s head swim, because Steve is so _strong_ , he’s so strong and sexy and how did Peter even end up in this situation—?

“It okay if I touch you, kid?” And _sweet_ , Steve’s so sweet to boot, asking before he does anything, and Peter makes a tiny, desperate sound before nodding and wrapping both his arms around Steve’s broad, thick shoulders and kisses him just as the other’s large, callused hand envelops his cock. Peter moans brokenly, never having had another hand on him besides himself, and it’s definitely _so_ much better this way. But Steve’s too slow, too gentle, despite how much Peter appreciates it. He wants everything, and at this rate, he’ll cum before Steve even gets to ask if he wants to have sex or not.

“You don’t...” he pants, “You don’t hafta be gentle, Mr. Rogers. I _am_ technically stronger than you, ‘member?”

And Steve pauses, then laughs softly, deep and slow and rich and exactly like honey. “I guess you got me there. You’re sure?”

“So sure. Please.”

Steve smirks lightly in response, and leans forward to bite an onslaught of marks onto Peter’s throat as one hand strokes him meticulously, while his middle finger on the other traces the crack on his ass downwards and circles his twitching hole.

“Oh, god,” Peter whines, going dizzy with all these new sensations, and can’t tell whether or not he should buck up into Steve’s hand in the front, or the back.

“Wanted this tight little ass ever since I first saw you in the suit.” Steve admits, and Peter feels that coil tighten again, a dangerous wave of arousal crash in his stomach. “Just my luck you were just as sweet underneath the mask.”

He uses some sweat Peter’s gathered on his back from the heat to coat the tip of his finger, and just introduce the first digit to the other’s hole, and he snaps his wrist just so at the same time, and Peter buckles. Steve holds him up somehow though, continuing through Peter’s small sob.

“Mis— M-mister Rogers, Captain— sir...”

“Steve’ll do just fine, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. Oh, Peter isn’t going to make it. No way in hell.

Steve fingers him open like this as efficiently as he can with no proper lube, the burn and stinging just okay enough for Peter to deal with, and when Steve ducks his head to tease Peter’s pert nipples with his tongue and teeth—

“I—I’m gonna cum,” he tells Steve in a shaky, completely wrecked voice while squeezing his shoulders, and when Steve suddenly stops it’s like his heart does too. “Shit, no no no— _please_.”

“I’ll let you cum, Parker, don’t worry. I’d just like to get to the fun part, first,” the other says lowly with a curl of his finger.

Peter makes a small, frustrated sound. “And this isn’t the fun part?” He asks genuinely, feeling excitement course through him and settle at the base of his spine. Steve bites the inside of his cheek to hide his grin, and huffs out a brief chuckle through his nose.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid.”

When they’re settled on the bench, Peter on his elbows and knees and Steve behind him with one foot on the seat, about to push inside, Peter panics again. But in his defense, his reasoning behind it is pretty solid.

“Wait— wait, you’re too big, I can’t...”

“You can,” Steve assures in his Captain America voice, no hint of instability in it. Peter swallows in reply, and Steve watches him, then cocks his head. “Nervous?” He questions, and Peter nods.

“Alright. Here, let me...”

And after a confusing second, something wet is suddenly flat against his hole. Steve’s beak of a crooked nose fits against the seam of his ass and Peter yelps, bucking away at first, but Steve holds him firmly in place by his hips.

“ _Mr. Rogers_ —” he gasps. “Steve! Oh, god, oh god, fuck, that’s—”

Steve pulls away just enough to answer, “Good? Hot? C’mon kid, talk to me.” He returns with a vengeance, and Peter whimpers.

“I—it’s... so good, so so so good, sir, please. God, I’ve wanted this— _you_ , for...” he trails off, too embarrassed to keep going, but as a punishment, Steve stops. Peter cries out a small, drawled out ‘ _no_ ’ in retaliation.

“Finish it. Finish that sentence, son.”

“...Wan'ned you since middle school. 'Cause you’re handsome and selfless and even though I hate those detention videos you did—” Steve’s tongue licks against his hole again, spearing its way inside, and Peter groans, taking a break to focus on Steve fucking him open with his tongue. “Fuck! A-and, and you’re, mm, you’re s-so hot during missions, I can barely ever stop staring— _god_ sir, please, I’m ready. I’m okay now, just _please_ fuck me.”

Steve continues on for another minute or so, and Peter’s _shaking_ by the end of it. “Well,” he drawls, his voice ragged, “how could I refuse an offer like that?”

The other man enters him slow and steady, and Peter might shed a tear or two while he pushes through the burning sting, but it’s so worth it to be able to take all of him. They fuck sloppily and desperate, but quiet save for the sound of wet skin on skin, and there’s loud knocking on the door, has been for a while, but they’ve elected to ignore it for the time being up until now. 

Steve groans, “Look, much as I’d love to ruin this perfect ass all day long, we got people waiting their turn in here.” He reaches around and grabs Peter’s cock, that’s an angry red from being told not to cum yet, just not yet, sweetheart.

“Why don’t we leave ‘em a present, kid? Show ‘em what we were up to?”

Peter’s eyes roll back into his head, and shakes it despite loving that idea. “N-no, no, that’s—”

“That wasn’t a question; it’s an order. Cum for me, Parker.” And with a choked off moan Peter does, finally, _finally_ , and Steve finishes on his back because he insisted through his pleasured growl.

Thank god he does, honestly; Steve’s able to cum so much it pools in the dip of his lower back. A side effect of the serum, he tells Peter breathlessly as he hovers over him to properly come to, and when they do, Steve kindly wipes him off with a discarded towel and presses a tender kiss to his temple, before helping him up and making sure he can walk.

Peter was right, he might actually need a wheelchair after this.

They leave separately, Steve first, and when Peter does too he cranes his neck just slightly, so that Mr. Falcon, Bucky, and Mr. Stark don’t see the already healing red marks littering his throat, and limps away quickly enough so that even if they did catch onto something, Peter wouldn’t be around to hear the question. Faintly though, after catching up to Steve and reveling at the heavy, warm, pruny hand in his hair as they share another secret kiss behind the lockers, Peter snorts at the faraway exclamation:

“Oh, what the _fuck_ did I sit in—?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Any negative comments regarding the age gap can suck my dick, and will be deleted. Otherwise, for the rest of you lovely folks, kudos and comments are always welcome!


End file.
